


heaven and hell and everything in between

by cassthecryptid



Category: Smosh
Genre: Angel/Demon AU, SmoshWritingWeek2019, SmoshWritingWeek2019 - Day Three, but i felt like i should still post it, eh, i don't love this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:17:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassthecryptid/pseuds/cassthecryptid
Summary: the world is ending. and an angel and a demon are arguing about whether or not they should stop it.





	heaven and hell and everything in between

In the ancient texts of old, and the scriptures of many religions, there has always been the existence of angels and demons. 

Whether they decide to come to Earth or not, is very much up to them, but in my experience, most of them consider the Earth and its inhabitants in the same regard as humans consider cockroaches. 

In all of its existence, there are many different angels and demons that have made their home on Earth.

Two of them in particular that are somewhat of note. Not for their deeds of miracle or misfortune, but rather for their lack of ability to perform either very well at all. 

It is very possibly that that is what has kept them on Earth for so long. But there are even things that I, seer of all, and creator of the all known universe, do not know. These two are just simply one of those itches that I have never been able to scratch. But I digress. 

The more angelic of the two, is an angel who was named, by yours truly, as Saytoriel. He has now changed it to reflect his taste for human culture. The angel owns and operates a little book store at 453 South Spring Street in Los Angeles California. I don’t know exactly when it opened, but it is housed in a small grey building with windows that allow for the name to be painted in gold lettering across it. It’s a small space, but to the angel, it’s home.

Just down the road at 501 South Spring Street, is the home of a small, seedy bar frequented by just starting stand-up comedians. It is also the home of the more demonic of the odd couple, who owns, operates, and performs there. This demon has kept his original name, however, he often adds the embellishment of a last name. Yet another human custom adopted by the both of them.

The two of them would come off as average people, if a little odd, but their angel and demon cohorts would find them anything but.

“Cavorting on Earth for this long?” An archangel would cry when asked about the strange angel who enjoyed humanity. “Saytoriel has truly lost his mind, I cannot understand why we still let him down there, especially if he wishes himself there willingly.” 

“He’s a little off.” One of the head demons would simply roll their eyes to themself, grumbling under their breath about being ‘asked stupid questions’. “He gets the job done,” they growl, “that’s all that matters. Numbers.” 

If the two factions were any brighter, they would have long ago realized the partnership between the two. But that was the folly of both. The demons and angels had something in common, (which, if asked, neither side, even in confidence, would never admit). They all had a horrible hating pride when it came to the enemy.

Demons always snicker at the high and mighty attitude of angels, cackling like the snapping bite of a taser. Angels tip their heads up at the demon's stupidity, pointing their noses towards the sky as if it might give them some better closeness to something good.

If my creations were able to think rationally, they would have solved their problems a millennia ago. Their stubborn prides have always gotten the better of them, _I_ forgave them for falling! They seem to have let their biases run deeper than their loyalty to me.

Perhaps, if I used these two as an example...they might be able to learn something for once. 

~😈~ ~😇~

“And then I said, that’s not even my wife!” The response to his joke was little more than crickets. He changed his microphone from hand to hand, barely phased by the dead air of the crowd around him. One of the three people in the audience gave him a blank slow blink, clearly dying of boredom from the whole affair. 

The demon grinned, bringing the microphone to his lips. “We’re having fun tonight, eh?” He tipped back on his heels, letting his body twist and turn like coiling rope as he moved across the stage. “Enough from me,” he waved his hand, the grin never leaving his face. “Our next comic is sure to tickle your funny bones!” 

The next comic was practically shivering with fear as the demon handed them the mic. “Good luck.” He released the words with a hiss off of the tip of his tongue, slapping the nervous comic on the back just a little too hard. 

The demon strutted out into the house, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, letting the slight heels on his shoes click ever so softly on the floor. 

In the corner of the room an elegant hand held a bright blue-orange drink with a curly straw and a tiny umbrella, aloft. The hand lead up to the cuff of a white jacket, and farther up to a shoulder, and then the curve of a jaw, and a pair of eyes that flicked from the stage, to the demon, and back to the stage. 

His words left his lips like the brimstone they were formed from. “What’re you doing here?”

“Bone.” 

“Always so forward, aren’t we?” The demon’s smile widened like a jagged line was being slowly cracked like rock across his cheeks. “I wasn’t aware you wanted me like that, dear angel.” 

“No.” The angel sputtered out his words, his face rising red. “I meant,” his eyes flickered from the demon’s face to the floor and back, “your end phrase up on stage. It should've been bone, not bones.” 

“Bones is plural, it works.”

“It really doesn’t-” The angel closed his eyes, waving a hand. “We have bigger problems.”

“Like what? Somebody buy one of your books and then you realized you want it back so you come to me asking for a miracle because you don’t have the gad to do it yourself?” 

The angel swatted at his shoulder. “That was  _ one time _ .” He turned away, his body quickly rotating back to the demon as he responded. “And you swore never to speak of it again.” 

The demon felt his grin widen as he leaned over the angel, whose grip was loosening on his drink. “You’re very pretty when you’re flustered.”

“Damien!” The angel’s voice was sharp, something it didn’t often do. The demon shrunk back slightly. “Focus for a moment,  _ please _ .” 

“Fine,” he glowered. “What’s topsy-turvey?” 

“It’s the end times, apparently.” 

The demon felt the organ that functioned as his stomach plummet. He tipped backwards, leaning on the hinge of his hips, before rocking back. “You’re kidding.” 

The angel’s voice was frantic. “Why would I kid about this?” He moved his head forward, staring ahead at the comic onstage failing miserably as he took a long sip of the drink.

“What are you-”

“I’m stressed.” 

“And?”

“This has an  _ alarming _ amount of alcohol in it.” He puckered his lips, the expression rippling across his features. “Is this even legal?” 

“Probably not.” The demon fell against the wall, letting the off brand orange wallpaper caress his shoulder. “So we’re all to die, is that it?” 

“Maybe,” the angel blinked down into the cup. “There may be a way to stop it.”

“Please don’t say-”

“She’s the only way!” 

The demon pulled away from the wall. “We’re not contacting her.” 

“Heaven and hell are going to tear each other apart, she’s the only one that can stop them!” 

"She hasn't spoken to any of us since, well, _forever_ , why would she help us now?" The demon pinched his brow.  “How do you even know any of this is going to happen anyways?” 

The angel pressed his lips together, unable to match his baby blues with the slitted yellow of the demon’s eyes.

He rolled his eyes, “Shayne you  _ idiot _ .” 

“I left the window open for them if they needed me, and they thought that it would be good to alert me for the fight!”

The demon pacing back a few steps before spinning around with a flourish to face the angel again. “The fight?” 

“I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we have our own sides.” 

“Yes,” the demon growled. “ _ Our _ side.” 

The angel tipped up his face, “since when?” 

“Oh don’t be coy,” his voice was thick with annoyance. “Since you liked humans, since you found pride in that bookshop of yours, since you got a fondness for drinks like that.” The demon nodded towards the drink with his forehead. “You told me for a reason, and you wouldn’t throw this all away just for some, ranking in the hall of angels. Admit it, you like it here.”

“No.” The angel quietly set down the drink. “Maybe.” He dragged his eyes up to the demons. The angel tightened his fists. “Alright fine, a little bit. And I told you, in case you wanted to leave. Go somewhere else before the world gets blown to smithereens.” 

“I would never dream of leaving you angel.” 

“You’re annoying sweet for a demon sometimes, Damien.” 

“Disgusting, take it back.” 

~😈~ ~😇~

My faith in them might be bleak, but they have managed to find more solace in one another than any angel or demon has even found for another of their same kind.

They’ll be the ones to save this world, and if not, well...I wouldn’t be telling this story, if they weren't, would I?


End file.
